


For Science

by truth_renowned



Series: The McSmutterson Files [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Blame Tumblr, Smutty McSmutterson, peggysous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy, Daniel, a hypothesis and several experiments. This is the Strategic SCIENTIFIC Reserve, after all. A follow-up to Curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> If you squint hard enough, this fic could fit in the time between "Endings and Beginnings" and "New Beginnings".
> 
> For em2mb (she knows why) and ReminiscentWriter (for suggesting another chapter).

Her mouth opens, unabashedly thrusting her tongue between his lips and grinding her hips into his. He's not to be outdone, of course, his hands snaking beneath the hem of her dress and exploring the bare skin of her upper thighs.

It's been a week since they've seen each other, her on a mission in New York as a favor to Jack. He needed ‘a woman’s touch,’ he said. More like he needed Peggy Carter to clean up the mess one of his agents made.

She's been back all of ten minutes and already his couch is getting a workout, her straddling his lap. In his wildest wet dreams, he thought she would be this responsive, this insatiable. Turns out his dreams weren't so wild after all.

She breaks the kiss, her fingers pulling through his hair. He latches his lips onto her neck, tongue swiping at her warm skin. She leans her head to the side to give him better access.

He pulls back to look at her. “You know, I've been thinking about what you said last week.”

“What was that, darling?” She lightly bites one of his ear lobes.

She's not making it easy for him to talk. “About being curious.”

Meeting his gaze, she smiles. “Feeling the need to satisfy your curiosity, Daniel?”

“Yes, but I have to tell you that your particular technique was flawed.”

“Flawed?” Her eyebrows rise in mock offense.

“Yes,” he says with a straight face, “your research was far from proper science, and therefore, not valid. As agents of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, it's our duty to do valid research.”

She tilts her head. “So, Mr. Scientist, what exactly do you suggest are ‘proper science’ and ‘valid research’?”

“First of all, any scientist worth his or her weight will first propose a hypothesis.”

“Go on,” she says, obviously amused.

“Then, and this is where your research was most flawed, one must test the hypothesis to prove or disprove it.”

“I think I proved a number of things last week,” she says with a wicked smile.

“You did but it was without the most important part of any scientific endeavor.” He leans forward, his lips so close to her ear. “Experimentation.”

She lets out a soft gasp, just the response he was hoping for.

“What did you have in mind?” Her hands grip his hair as he nips at her ear again.

“First, the hypothesis. I propose that there is more than one position for us.”

She pulls back to look at him, confused.

He smiles. “I mean, more than just you on top.” He thrusts his hips for emphasis.

Something flashes in her eyes and it is far from confusion. “I thought that was the most comfortable for you.”

“It might well be, but how will we know without conducting some experiments?” He thrusts his hips again and is delighted in the gasp it pulls from her.

“For science,” she whispers.

“Of course.” His lips find hers again and the kiss is searing and so full of promise. His hands resume their exploration under her dress until she pulls back.

“Did you have any experiments in mind, Mr. Scientist?”

“A few,” he says with a grin.

“Care to tell me?”

“How about I show you instead?”


	2. Experiment #1

They lie on the bed, facing each, free of clothes and inhibitions. His hands explore the curves of her shoulders and back as he kisses her neck. She melts under his touch. He loves her with every fiber of his being, but he really loves her like this: out of control. Peggy Carter is the queen of control, and he has the ability to strip her of that control with nothing more than his touch and his mouth. It’s a heady feeling that never fails to arouse him.

She sighs against his neck. “So where do you want me, Mr. Scientist?”

“Everywhere,” he whispers against her ear.

“I meant where do you want me for your experiment.”

“ _Our_ experiment,” he reminds her. “And I want you right where you are but on your back.”

She rolls from her side onto her back as he props himself on his left elbow. His hand brushes over her skin from collarbone to navel and back again. He’s already hard from just touching her. 

He lowers his head and kisses the skin just above her left breast. His lips latch on and he sucks lightly, then harder, and harder still, knowing he will leave a mark. She groans her approval.

His hand moves down her body, settling on her thigh. She automatically spreads her legs for him.

“Needy,” he says against her skin.

She runs a finger over his erection, and his hips buck. “Look who’s talking.”

His hand moves between her legs. She’s already so wet. Neither one of them is going to last long, so he gets to work. He spreads her folds and slips two fingers into her. Her hips grind against his hand as he pushes his fingers in further.

“I thought this was an experiment,” she says through a moan.

“It is.”

“How is this different from what we normally do?” The last word ends up as a squeak as he curls his fingers inside her.

“Patience, Peg.”

Her hips buck against his hand again. “You know I have no patience.”

He chuckles as he moves his body down the bed, his fingers never breaking rhythm. Finally, he reaches his destination, where his face is even with her hip.

His head dips down and he laps at her, his lips and tongue joining his fingers in driving her crazy. She writhes under his mouth, colorful words expelling from her lips. He loves this. Calm, cool and collected Peggy Carter spewing obscenities while rocking against his face.

She's so close and he knows it. Time for the experiment.

His fingers slide out of her and he pulls himself up the bed. He grabs the condom packet from the side table and sheathes himself. Propping himself up on his elbows, he aligns his body over hers. He rests his stump on her left leg, then lifts her right leg, bending it at the knee so she can place her foot on the bed. It opens her more to him, just what he wants. He grasps himself at the base and slowly rubs his tip against her once, twice, three times, four...

“Oh God,” she whispers. 

That is his cue. He slips inside her. Her gasp eggs him on. He grinds his hips against hers, nestling himself further inside and creating that delicious friction they both enjoy.

“Are you okay with my leg on yours?”

“Yes,” she sighs, moving her hips against his.

“Am I too heavy for you? We can try something else.”

She grabs his face, and he meets her gaze. “Daniel?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Her words travel from his ears straight to his erection. He pulls back and thrusts into her, thrilled at the sound of her gasp. It’s a new sensation for him, being on top and in control of their rhythm. He thrusts again, harder than the last and she yells his name. 

“Too much?”

“Not enough,” she says, her teeth sinking into his shoulder.

He keeps thrusting, the pressure quickly building from her muscles involuntarily clenching around him. Or maybe she's doing it on purpose. He doesn't care.

Her hands have a vice grip on his biceps, and her fingernails dig into his skin as she angles her hips up. She's close, he knows it, but not as close as he is. He slips out of her, smiling at her disappointed moan. He rubs himself against her again and again, hitting those nerves that will send her over the edge. 

Hearing that series of gasps, and that one final moan, he knows she's flying and he thrusts inside her again, pushing himself into her with abandon. He keeps his eyes open, watching her. He’s never been this close to her face as she comes. Her eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering, faded red lips open in an ‘o’, hair matted to her head. God, she’s gorgeous.

She keeps pulsing around him, and he feels the pressure building again inside him. This time he can’t and won't stop it. A few final thrusts and his body tenses, everything constricting then flowing, and he tries to keep his eyes open but he can’t because she feels so good and he is gone for seconds or minutes, he’s not sure.

As he comes down, he opens his eyes and she is looking at him, a content smile on her face. A sated Peggy is the most beautiful. 

“I'd call that a success, Mr. Scientist.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “I concur.”

He lowers his head and gives her a sweet, slow kiss. He starts to move off of her, but her hands clamp onto his ass as she pulls back from the kiss.

“Stay,” she says against his lips. “And you’re not too heavy for me. You are just right.”

And, he thinks, you are just perfect.

His arms are shaking from keeping himself propped up over her but he’s not about to move anywhere. The lady wants him here so he will be here. He always will be here for her.


	3. Experiment #2

The mission had been difficult and time-consuming, but it was successful. The minute they got home, they stripped down, leaving a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom. Not an unusual sight for them, as the bedroom is one of their favorite places and what they did in there rarely required clothing. However, this time the goal was sleep. It was long overdue for both of them.

The last time she looked at him, he was nude and propping his prosthetic against the side table. She placed a hand on his back, whispered “good night, darling” and she was gone before her head hit the pillow.

Her eyes flutter open and she sees dawn peeking through the curtains. She is lying on her left side, as is he, with his arm draped over her. And with something semi-hard pushing quite insistently against her backside.

She wiggles her hips and pushes back. She hears a sleepy groan and his arm tightens around her middle.

“Good morning,” she says. “Looks like someone is awake.” She nestles her arse into him again.

“The rest of me is awake, too.” 

His lips find her skin, planting wet kisses along her shoulder blade. She lets out a sigh, then winces. The taste in her mouth is vile: last night’s tuna fish sandwich and stale coffee. It’s enough to sear the luscious hair right off of Daniel’s head. 

His hand goes to her chin, trying to turn her face.

“God, no,” she blurts out. “Bloody awful morning breath.” 

She hears him smack his lips. “I seem to have the same problem. I have an idea, though.”

“Another experiment?”

He hums in the affirmative against her shoulder.

“You want me to stay where I am?”

He hums again, this time against her ear and it sends vibrations straight down her body.

His hand moves to her breast, cupping her. She moans, pushing against his hand, which pushes her arse into him again.

His tongue circles her ear as his finger circles her nipple. He pinches the erect nub between his index finger and thumb, then tugs, just how she likes it. She hears a long guttural moan and realizes it’s coming from her. 

She should fear the power this man has over her in the bedroom but she doesn’t. She knows he never will hurt her. He will push her to the edge of pleasure and pain, absolutely, but he will not hurt her.

Speaking of pleasure and pain… his lips latch onto the fleshy part next to her shoulder blade and he starts sucking on her skin. She’s not sure why he likes doing this. Maybe it’s a male thing; he is marking his territory, though it's never anywhere but the two of them can see. She doesn’t care what the reason is. The feeling straddles that decadent pleasure/pain line, and she loves it. She gasps his name as the suction gets stronger, almost to the part of pain... then his lips are gone. 

So many sensations. His lips. His hands. She is so close yet he hasn't even touched her where she wants his touch the most. She grabs his hand, which is working wonders with her other nipple, and pushes it lower down her body. 

He chuckles but lets her guide his hand between her legs. He hooks her right leg over his hip, opening her to him.

And then he does nothing.

She wriggles herself against his erection, which is now rock hard. When that doesn’t work, she grabs his hand from her thigh and pushes it closer to her core. 

“Daniel,” she pleads.

“Did you want something from me?” She can feel him smiling against her skin.

“You know what I want.”

“Why don't you tell me?”

She grasps his index and middle fingers, as well as his thumb. “I want these to get to work.”

He chuckles but does as she says. Parting her folds, he thrusts one finger in, circles it around, and then the second. She sighs, then gasps as his fingers start flexing and curling inside her. He is a virtuoso, able to strum and stroke her in a way that pulls all the right notes from her body.

His thumb settles on the place it instinctively knows, applying the perfect amount of pressure and circular motion that drives her crazy.

She's almost there. Almost, almost… and his fingers are gone. With a growl, she grasps his hand and pulls it toward her face. Those two busy fingers immediately go into her mouth and she sucks her wetness from them. 

“Jesus, Peg,” he growls in her ear.

It's too bad, she thinks, that he can't see her satisfied smile.

She releases his hand and he rolls away from her. She hears fumbling, then paper ripping, and soon his body is against hers again. He hefts her leg back into place, draped over his hip. He rubs the tip of his erection against her, from her opening to the bundle of nerves above it. Over and over, teasing and stroking. Their last experiment uncovered this little gem of a movement. It causes him to moan and her to let loose with a few choice expletives.

“Such language,” he says against her ear.

“I’ll give you some more language if you don’t get inside me right now.” 

He chuckles against her shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without warning, he pushes inside her. Finally! The angle is different, but a good different. He doesn't seem satisfied, though. He props himself up on his elbow, then unhooks her leg from his hip.

“Pull your knees up,” he whispers.

She does and the angle changes, deliciously so. Judging from his moan, the angle works better for him, too. In this position, he slips in deeper, and it feels as if he is filling every millimeter of her. He pulls back, fingers digging into her right hip, and thrusts into her, pulling a moan from her. He does it again.

“God!” Her colorful vocabulary is gone, one-syllable words the best she can do.

“Peg...” He punctuates her name with another powerful thrust.

His hands otherwise occupied, her hand moves between her legs and her finger takes over where his thumb left off. Between his body slamming into hers and her own hand, she is gasping and over the edge in no time, her body tensing and contracting around him.

She reaches around, her fingernails digging into his hip as she hears him grunt her name, her cue that he has followed her over that edge.

He stills his hips, then collapses onto the mattress, apparently unable to keep himself propped up. His right arm drapes over her waist, breath puffing the hair away from her shoulder.

“That was…”

“Yes, it was.” She puts her hand over his. “A definite success.”

He hums in agreement against her shoulder.

“Only issue is that I didn’t get to see you,” she says, her fingers brushing over his strong forearm.

“We can work on the technique. One thing with research is there are always several ways to approach it.”

“Very true, but not right now. I have a date.”

She feels him raise his head from the pillow. “You what?”

“I have a date… with a toothbrush and the shower. Care to join me, Mr. Scientist?”

She feels him smile against her neck. “Gladly.”


	4. Experiment #3

“You don't look so good, Peg.”

She closes the door behind her and limps over to the couch where he's sitting.

“I'm fine,” she says, plopping down on the couch and immediately regretting it with a wince.

His arm goes around her shoulders, coaxing her to lie down. “What happened?” 

She nestles her head in his lap, and his hand settles in her hair. “Bloody suspect thought it was a grand idea to make a running jump onto an adjacent rooftop.”

“And you thought it was a grand idea to make a running jump after him?”

“Nimble wanker. He got away. I got a sore hamstring.”

She closes her eyes, concentrating on his fingers brushing through her hair. It's the most comforting feeling, able to calm her almost instantly, and he knows it.

“Maybe I'll go soak in a hot bath,” she says with no intention of moving.

“I have a better idea.”

She opens her eyes and he is smiling at her. “Does this idea include the bedroom?”

“Actually, it does, but not for the reason you're thinking.”

She sits up and he gives her a quick peck on the lips. He stands and offers his hand to her, which she accepts. Gingerly, she gets up from the couch. When she steps down on her left leg, she winces and leans against Daniel.

“Bloody hell.”

His arms go around her and he pulls her into a hug. She wraps her arms around his waist.

“This helps," she says against his shoulder.

His hands go in her hair, tilting her face up as his lips meet hers. Her mouth opens immediately, welcoming his tongue. He tastes of scotch, which must be what is in the glass on the coffee table. She loves scotch. She loves him.

His mouth pulls away. “Does that help, too?”

“More than you know, darling.”

He holds her, caressing her back, for seconds, minutes, she doesn't know. All she is aware of is his touch and how content she is.

“Come on,” he says. “What I have in mind will help even more. I promise.”

They walk hand in hand, both limping, to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he says casually.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Clothes off.”

He walks into the bathroom as she removes her jacket.

“And how will this help my leg?”

He comes out of the bathroom holding her Jergens lotion bottle. Her eyebrows rise and she smiles as she continues removing her clothes.

He sits on the edge of the bed, obviously enjoying the view. “I used to play baseball, played on my high school team. Had a good arm, pretty good batting average. Even played a little in the service, pick-up games here and there, until…” He shrugs.

“I'll bet you looked great in a baseball uniform.”

He smiles. “Anyway, in high school, one of my teammates pulled a hamstring. Coach said one of the best things for hamstring injuries is massage.”

She stands naked before him, insinuating herself between his legs and putting her hands on his shoulders. “I like the sound of that.”

His hands explore her backside as his tongue finds her navel. “You'll like the feel of it even better.”

“I like the feel of this,” she says, swaying as his lips explore her abdomen, moving lower, lower...

He pulls back. “We’ll continue this later.” He chuckles as she groans her disappointment. “You. Face down on the bed.”

“Yes, Coach.”

She climbs on the bed, crossing her arms under one of the pillows as she snuggles her head in the cottony softness of the pillowcase. His hands roam her back, over her arse, taking a little extra time there, then down her left leg.

His hands leave her for several seconds, too long, then come back with a cool wetness. He rubs the lotion over the back of her thigh, lightly at first, then with intent. She moans into the pillow as his thumbs push into her muscle, making circular motions in a straight line up and down her thigh. The pain is not unbearable but it's there. She knows it has to be to work the muscle.

“Pressure okay?”

“Uh huh,” she says into the pillow.

The rest of his fingers join in, pressing into her flesh. Despite the lotion, she feels the calloused fingers pads on his left hand, his crutch hand. His right hand is dominant but his left hand is stronger, and those fingers dig deeper into her leg.

The fingers on his right hand slip to her inner thigh, so close to her core, presumably to get better purchase for his thumbs. She knows he is doing this to help her, to work out the stiffness and pain in her leg, but his touch is pulling feelings from her that are anything but therapeutic. She can feel her arousal pooling between her legs. His fingers are right there. He has to feel it, too.

“Feel good?”

“Wonderful.” She means it. Even though the pressure hurts at first, the more his fingers work, the better her leg feels. The better her entire body feels.

He shifts on the bed, and both hands leave her thigh, travelling up until his fingers dig into her arse cheeks.

“I don't hurt there,” she says through a moan.

“Pain in adjoining areas can happen with hamstring injuries.”

“The coach tell you that?”

“Nope.” She feels his lips at the juncture where her arse and thigh meet. He kisses his way up one cheek to her lower back. His tongue runs up her spine to the middle of her back and down to her arse again. 

He is too good at this, better than she ever could have imagined. The pillow stifles her moan. 

“You up for an experiment, Peg?”

“Definitely.”

His weight is gone from the mattress, and she hears the unbuckling of a belt, the rustling of cloth. He sits on the bed, and she turns on her right side, her hand brushing against his back. The urge to touch him is overwhelming. 

He finishes the final strap on his prosthetic and turns to face her. “Lie on your stomach. Let me do the work tonight.”

“I will, but first…” She crooks her finger at him and he leans over, their eyes meeting until his mouth closes over hers. The kiss is dizzying, hot, and absolutely what she needs right now.

He pulls back and grabs the pillow she isn't using. “We’ll need this.” 

She raises an eyebrow as he folds the pillow in half, placing it by her stomach and motioning for her to lie on it. She does, and the pillow angles her hips up. Her interest is piqued.

She hears the telltale ripping of the paper condom packet. Seconds later, he gently spreads her legs, careful not to disturb her left thigh more than necessary.

“Okay?”

“More than okay.”

His hands smooth over her back, her arse, then right where she wants them, one finger dipping into her, then a second. His fingers flex and curl inside her, and she moans against the pillow again.

He shifts on the bed again, moving between her legs. His fingers slip out of her, rubbing, teasing. Then his mouth is on her, his tongue replacing his fingers. Again the pillow swallows her moaning, which is constant and growing louder by the second.

He has her so worked up that almost instantly, she is climbing up and over that edge. She bites the pillow to keep her scream subdued.

His mouth slowly moves over her arse, leisurely kissing a wet path up her spine. 

“How's the leg?”

It takes her a few seconds to realize what he's talking about. “The leg is fine. The rest of me is shaking.”

“I can feel that,” he says, kissing his way from the middle of her back up to her shoulders. He clears the hair away from her neck and his mouth continues its travels. She turns her head and catches his lips with hers. It's an odd angle but they make it work.

He shifts again and she realizes that he is stretched out over her body, his legs between hers and his hard length pressing against her inner thigh. Her mind is reeling at the thought of what he is about to do. This is new for them, and it puts her in a very vulnerable position. Literally. But she's not afraid. Quite the opposite, actually. A powerful new wave of arousal rushes through her.

His fingers graze her opening again, pulling back the folds, stroking her. Then his erection is there, rubbing against her again and again, covering himself with her wetness. Slowly, so very slowly, he enters her. The sensation, the angle, the penetration, everything is new and exciting and arousing and…

“Oh God!”

He moves his body up hers until he is buried as deep as he can go. He's supporting himself on his forearms, but his hips are resting on her arse. Or they were, until he starts moving. He pulls back and thrusts in, not forcefully but the weight of his body creates the most delicious friction. Their moans mingle in the room.

His lips find her skin again, kissing a path from one shoulder blade to the other.

“You okay?”

“Daniel, if you don't start moving, you will be the one who is not okay.”

He chuckles against her, then pulls almost completely out and thrusts in again. The angle is perfect, hitting that sweet spot and creating even more friction against the pillow under her hips. She bites the pillow under her head to keep from yelling out with each thrust.

His hips move with precision, as if to some internal rhythm. She thinks of a metronome for some reason. Out, in, out, in. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

She is surprised by the speed and intensity of the second orgasm, building from her depths and taking over her entire body in seconds. His precision falters at the end, his thrusting shallower but more powerful. She hears her name, then a gasp, and his hips still on hers. 

His body relaxes against her, and she absently wishes she were turned around so she could hold him.

“Wow,” he says against her shoulder.

“That... was surprisingly successful.”

“Surprisingly?”

“I wasn't sure if it would work, for either of us.”

“To be honest, I wasn't, either. You never know unless you try.”

She corrects him. “Unless you experiment.”

He hums against her shoulder. “We're three for three. Should we quit while we're ahead?”

“Absolutely not,” she says, pushing her hips up. “We are not quitters. I'm in this to the end, Mr. Scientist.”

“So am I, Peg. So am I.”


	5. Experiment #4 - The Finale

Daniel slams the front door behind them. 

“You just don't get it, do you, Peggy?”

“Get what? That you're mad? I get that loud and clear, _Chief_.” She spits out the last word.

“You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“But I didn't,” she says, turning around to face him. “We got them, and all involved, including the hostages and including me, are safe.”

“It could have gone very badly, and you know it.” He moves to stand in front of her and runs a hand through his already-mussed hair. “I told you to wait until we had backup.”

“They were going to start shooting hostages!”

“They could have shot you!”

“I knew a different way in. If we had waited, the element of surprise would have been gone.”

“That doesn't excuse you from ignoring me and endangering yourself.” 

“It was my mission,” she says, defiant.

“I am the chief.”

“And so what you say goes? Whether it's for the good of the mission or not?”

“Coming home with all of my people unhurt is for the good of the mission!” He moves closer to her, invading her personal space. “You have no patience, Peggy, and that makes you dangerous.”

“I thought you liked dangerous,” she says with a bitter smile.

“Not in the field, I don't. Someone needs to teach you some patience.”

“And you're the man to do it, I suppose.” 

He steps even closer, so close his breath ruffles her hair. She shouldn't be so turned on by their fighting, but she is. His hair is disheveled, his nostrils flaring, eyes dark. He is sexy as all get-out and she wants him.

“I could show you a thing or two about patience,” he says, his voice low and rough. So she's not the only one turned on by this.

“Then show me.”

He roughly covers her mouth with his own. His tongue forces its way in, sharply dueling with hers. Just as quickly, he breaks the kiss. She moves in for more but he pulls back.

“Ah, ah,” he says. “Patience.” He walks away from her, toward the bedroom.

She hears a growl and realizes it came from her. How can someone be so infuriating and so enticing at the same time?

She follows him into the bedroom, entering just in time to see him sit on the edge of the bed. She stands in the doorway, hands on hips. He crooks his finger at her. She stands there, thinking of saying no, but she knows he won’t fall for it. Their combined want is thick like a fog, covering everything in the room, making it hard to breathe.

She lowers her hands and walks to him, discarding her jacket and shoes as she goes. He spreads his legs and she stands between them.

“You think you can teach me patience?”

“I know I can,” he says, hands working the hook and zipper on her pants. “Whether or not you'll listen, that's another story.”

She runs her hands through his hair. “I thought you were going to teach me patience in the field.”

“Let's start here first.” He pulls the pants down her legs, and she steps out of them.

“I have patience here.”

He barks out a laugh. “The hell you do.”

His hands slide up the back of her thighs until his fingers sit on her lower back. Slowly he pulls down the satin covering her core and pushes it down her legs. She kicks the fabric away. He looks up at her and she meets his gaze. She pushes his head toward her body but he resists.

“That’s not patience, Peg.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he laughs.

“That's not very adult, either,” he says.

She ignores him, choosing instead to remove her blouse and brassiere, tossing both to the floor.

Her hands move to his shirt, working the buttons. He lets her, his hands otherwise occupied, skimming over her hips and down her thighs, only leaving her to remove his shirt and undershirt.

She kneels in front of him, removing the shoe and sock on his good leg. Then her hands go to his belt. His hands frame her face and he bends down, brushing his lips over hers. She wants so badly to deepen the kiss but she knows this is a test. A test of her patience. She's always been very good at taking tests.

Her hands have not been idle, working loose the belt. She has his pants undone in a flash, making sure to brush her knuckles over him as much as possible. She can feel him responding to her touch. 

Patience, my arse, she thinks.

He stills her hands and pulls back from the painfully chaste kisses. He lifts his hips and moves the trousers down his legs. She wastes no time, working the straps on the prosthesis, and as soon as she is done, he removes it. 

She kisses his upper thigh, his hip, his abdomen, then the burgeoning hardness still encased in cotton. He stops her there, his hands framing her face again.

“You. On the bed.”

“Is that an order, Chief?”

“I'm not your supervisor in here,” he says, combing his fingers through her hair. “We're equals in this. Always.”

Her breath hitches. She wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting such raw emotion as her response, either.

“I love you, Daniel.”

“I love you, too,” he says, helping her stand, “but I'm still teaching you some patience.”

She laughs as she crawls into the bed. She turns to face him just as he is lifting his hips off the bed to remove the last piece of clothing between them. Her hand moves over his back. While he looks great from the front, she equally loves the way he looks from the back. Well-defined musculature, her analytical mind offers. Hotter than the surface of the sun, her libido counters.

He turns to face her and she moves in, her lips finding his, her mouth open and ready. She is not disappointed. As his tongue roughly dances with hers, he pushes her back on the mattress. She goes willingly. He plans to teach her patience, and she plans to be a model pupil. 

Maybe.

He pulls back from the kiss, his breathing heavy. He is propped up on his left elbow, his other hand roaming freely over her body. She closes her eyes and concentrates on his touch, fingers barely brushing the skin on her arm, raising goosebumps as they go.

Then his hand is gone. She opens her eyes, ready to protest, but instead watches his lips wrapping around the flesh of her breast. Her eyes flutter closed again. Instinctively, she pushes her chest forward. His tongue flattens over her nipple, moving back and forth as he lightly sucks on her skin. The moan that escapes her is nothing short of primal. 

His mouth continues its journey, moving from her breast to her stomach, leaving hot, wet kisses in its wake. Her hands go to his hair, pushing his head where she most wants it to be. 

Then suddenly, nothing. No touches, no kisses. Her eyes open and she sees him, grinning at her. 

She shoots him a lethal look. “If you say, ‘Patience, Peg,’ I'm going to push you off this bed.”

He chuckles as he moves back up the bed, his mouth inches from hers. “Your patience will be rewarded.”

“Can't I be rewarded now?” She lifts her head from the pillow and he pulls back, keeping the same distance between their lips.

“Maybe a little,” he says, slipping a finger inside her. 

He swallows her gasp, kissing her again, not as chaste as before but not nearly intense enough. A second finger joins the first, both moving and curling in unison. His thumb settles on her folds, pressing light circles into the flesh. She feels her muscles starting to clench around his fingers and she squirms under his touch. So close. Just a little bit more...

And his fingers and lips are gone. Her eyes fly open and he is staring down at her, another smile on his face.

“Daniel,” she groans, frustrated.

“Not yet,” he says, his arm going under her shoulders. “Sit up and scoot forward.”

She eyes him curiously but does what he says. He moves behind her, tossing the pillows on the floor, then sits with his back against the headboard, legs spread. He sheaths himself with a condom. She smiles, admiring the view as he works, then starts to straddle him but he stops her.

“Turn around,” he says with a mischievous smile.

She visibly shivers, and not because she is cold. “A lesson in patience and an experiment, Mr. Scientist?”

“You have a problem with that?”

Her answer is to turn her back to him and lean against him. He grabs her hips and pulls her closer, his erection against her lower back. She wiggles her hips.

“Stop that,” he says, just this side of a growl.

“No patience?” 

She laughs, then yelps as he bites her shoulder. The biting turns into sucking, and she knows he intends to leave a mark. She's not sure exactly what he has in mind but it excites her nonetheless. Whatever it is, it will be a lesson in patience for both of them.

His lips leave her shoulder and move to her ear. “Knees on either side of my hips. Stay facing away from me.”

She gasps, realizing what he is suggesting. She straddles him and he brings his legs together. He easily slips inside her, her body more than ready for him. She takes him in and he stills her hips against his, and for once she's glad for the lack of movement. Feeling him this way, the new angle… it’s more than she can handle.

Her hands settle on his forearms. Patience, she thinks. Her next thought is ‘bollocks’.

Still not moving his hips, his hand travels down her body, touching that bundle of nerves. A surprisingly few flicks of his finger and she explodes.

“God, Daniel!”

He stills her hips as she arches her back, her muscles pulsing around him. Her head falls back to his shoulder, fingernails pressed into his forearms as she rides the waves until they subside. It takes a good minute for her breathing to even out, and that is when she realizes he is not moving, not trying to seek his own release. She grinds her hips into his and he stops her.

“Not yet,” he growls.

“Why? I’m…”

“No.” His voice sharp as a knife.

“Daniel…”

She turns to look at him. His eyes are closed, teeth clenched. Fighting not to lose control.

He opens his eyes and pierces her with his gaze. “You. Again.”

“I don’t need to--”

“Again,” he bites out.

“I thought this was a test of _my_ patience.”

“Who says it’s going to be quick for you the second time?”

Her only response is a groan.

They stay that way, connected, panting, bodies thrumming, for several minutes. Absently, she wonders how he thinks these things up. He has a creative mind but this exceeds all expectations. She moans at the thought of what they are doing. How this man, a consummate professional and proper gentleman, can be so uninhibited and adventurous in the bedroom. How this man can bring out a side of her she knew existed but never thought she could show. How this man can think of these experiments. What they are doing came from his mind, his thoughts. This is what he thought of doing to her, doing _with_ her. 

“Daniel.”

“Yes, love?”

She melts a little inside. He's never called her that before. The first endearment, besides ‘Peg’. He saves ‘Peg’ for when he is worried about her, when he wants her to know he loves her, when he wants to fuck her brains out. She laughs at the last one.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” she says, reaching a hand back to cup his neck. “I just… I love this. I love you.”

His arms wrap around her body. “I love you, too, Peg.”

She smiles. Finally, he grips her hips and starts thrusting. It’s shallow and slow, so slow it drives her crazy. Keeping her hand around his neck, she runs her other hand down her body to where they are joined. One of his hands bats hers away.

“Patience, Peg.”

She groans at him and he laughs against her neck.

“You're an evil man.”

“I prefer the word ‘patient’.”

“Evil,” she breathes out.

He pushes her body forward, running a hand down her spine. She braces herself on the mattress, arms straight out in front of her. Yet another fascinating new angle. He thrusts against her, shallow and deliberate. For a second, she thinks she sees stars. He does it again and again, and she thinks she might spontaneously combust.

“Fuck, Daniel…”

“I thought that's what I was doing.” His voice is taut like a tightrope.

He pulls her back against his body and she takes over the thrusting but with his direction on her hips. She keeps it shallow, just as he did.

One hand leaves her hip and finds that nub it knows by heart and starts a fast rhythm. It's mere seconds before she can't hold back. She screams his name, and possibly an obscenity, as her body spasms around him. 

As she soars, all she can think of is how did he know? How did he know that this would work? How did he know that this one, this experiment, would send her into orbit higher than she's ever been? How did he know?

“Peg! Oh shit!”

He grabs her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, pressing her down as his head presses into her shoulder and teeth bite down on her skin.

She collapsed back against him, and his hands fall from her hips. She no longer has a solid bone in her body. She doesn't think he does, either.

“Dear God,” she pushes out on a weak breath. “What was that?”

“I have no idea.”

She laughs and laces her fingers in his. “You were right, though. My patience was rewarded. Very highly rewarded.”

“Now all you have to do is transfer that to work.”

“I will try.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Daniel, I promise.” She gives his hands a squeeze to show she means it.

He finally raises his head and plants a kiss on her left shoulder, then her right. She flinches at the tender skin.

“Do you have any off-the-shoulder dresses?”

“A few. Why?”

“Don't wear them for a while.”

She smiles. “None of them are appropriate for work anyway.”

Neither one of them moves to separate, letting their breathing return to normal. The only movement is her hands running along his arms and his lips brushing her neck.

“So, Mr. Scientist,” she says after several minutes. “How are you going to top that one?”

“I don't know if I can. Or if we would survive it.”

She chuckles. “So does this mean the experiments are over?”

“I wouldn't say that. Science is all about discovery, and we have much more to discover.”

“Do you think we can sleep first?”

“I think that's a good plan of attack,” he says against her neck. “As soon as I can move.”

She thinks about the word he used: discovery. These experiments, as they call them, have uncovered much about who they are, not only in the bedroom. She has seen the real Daniel Sousa -- passionate, inquisitive, giving, imaginative -- through their work, but in here, all of that is intensified. She loves seeing him this way.

“What are you thinking?”

“About how much I love you," she says.

“I hope it’s a lot.”

“It’s everything.”

“Peg,” he whispers. 

She raises her hips and he slips out of her as she turns around to face him. Still straddling his hips, her hands frame his face and their lips meet. She never fails to feel that delicious tightness in her stomach when she kisses him, when his soft lips part and his tongue tangles with hers. She feels him stirring between her legs.

His lips leave hers. “Are you sure you want to sleep right now?”

“Yes, I am sure,” she says, first smiling, then shaking her head. “Someone needs to teach you some patience, Daniel.”


End file.
